


we carry on through the storm

by annabeth_writes



Series: Birthday Month Celebration 2019 [3]
Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Canon Rewrite, F/M, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Sexual Tension
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-06-17
Updated: 2019-06-16
Packaged: 2020-05-13 06:12:44
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 958
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19245436
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/annabeth_writes/pseuds/annabeth_writes
Summary: Bran comes to Winterfell just after Jon is named King in the North, revealing the most important secret in the realm and changing everything.





	we carry on through the storm

**Author's Note:**

> This is the third of my birthday month fics. I know that i haven't finished the second one yet. I had a very difficult week. I'm going to work on finishing them both over this course of this week.
> 
> By request in the prompt, there are no White Walkers or Night King in this fic. This is also only the prologue so the rest of the chapters will be longer.
> 
> Title: Battlefield - Svricina

Sansa knew where she should be. Sitting before a fire taking in every inch of her younger brother, asking him about the last few years and telling him about her experiences in return. If not there, then in the kitchens checking on their stores or the glass gardens to see how the plants were coming along. Perhaps even in her solar, looking through the various tomes and scrolls she’d gathered from what was left of Maester Luwin’s collection in preparation for winter. Yet she was here, in the cold, dim crypts staring up at the statue of a woman that she never knew.

Lyanna Stark was little more than a ghost to her as she grew. A woman that haunted her father’s thoughts but that meant very little to Sansa outside of the stories she heard. She lived a tragic life. Once, Sansa might have thought it was romantic, like Naerys Targaryen or Jenny of Oldstones. Now that she knew the truth of a life cut short, a life that should have flourished like the winter roses that grew all over the North, Sansa couldn’t help but shed a tear for her aunt and the son that Lyanna never got to know.

Footsteps reached her ears as she lifted her hand, brushing the wetness from her cheek with her gloved hand. It could only be one person. Bran could not walk and none other would dare to venture into the crypts without expressed permission. Turning her head, she watched Jon’s wary, burdened approach. His eyes were fixed upon the same statue that captured her attention, heavy with sadness and other such burdens. Sansa remained still as he joined her side, her eyes darting to the missive that dangled loosely in his hand before returning to his face.

“Do you think that’s really what she looked like?” Jon asked, his voice quiet.

Sansa’s eyes flitted back to Lyanna, taking in the stone likeness fully as she inhaled deeply.

“I don’t know,” she said honestly, remember how her father used to describe his sister. “I always thought she’d look something like Arya.”

“Aye,” Jon said simply.

She didn’t look his way, shifting on the spot and clasping her hands before her.

“This changes nothing,” Sansa said softly, looking down at the ground as she spoke. “You’re still family to us.”

“The North won’t take well to dragons invading their lands,” Jon said quietly.

“You have as much Stark blood as you do Targaryen,” Sansa argued, turning to face him. “You-”

She cut off, realizing the meaning behind his undoubtedly carefully chosen words.

“Dragons?”

Jon lifted his hand slowly, showing her the scroll.

“Daenerys Targaryen has reached Dragonstone with her armies, as well as the combined might of the Dornish and Ironborn forces.”

Sansa reached out, snatching the missive away to read it. His words were true, yet did not encompass everything written in the letter, in a script that she recognized all too easily.

“Tyrion is her Hand,” she said, unable to resist wondering how he’d gone from the brink of execution to a close advisor to the Dragon Queen herself.

“She’s my aunt,” Jon said, his eyes still fixed on Lyanna’s statue. “They want us to bend the knee to her.”

“Cersei wants the same,” Sansa sighed, crumpling the message in her hand as she turned away with a deep breath.

“And both of them would want me dead if they learned of my true parentage.”

She glanced towards Jon, sinking her teeth into her lower lip for a brief moment.

“They will not get what they want,” Sansa decided, taking a step towards him. “You are our king.”

“Our people-” Jon sighed, shaking his head.

“Will come to understand,” she finished for him, reaching out to wrap her fingers around his arm. “You have done more for the North than any other. It will come as a shock at first but given time, they will remember exactly why they chose you as their king.”

He looked at her, his eyes filled with vulnerability. Sansa wished that she could strip the pain away and let him know peace. But their fight was not over. In truth, it seemed as if it only just began. They were closer than she intended for them to be, mere inches away from one another. She had to wonder if she imagined how his eyes darted to her lips in the low light. There had been a tension between them, that was undeniable. Sansa thought that was born of differing approaches and similarly headstrong personalities. Yet even now, she felt it filling the air between them, making the chill deep within her all but disappear.

“And what will we do when these one or both of these queens come North to demand our fealty?” he asked, his eyes burning as he stared back at her.

Sansa swallowed hard, looking up at Lyanna’s statue. The woman must have been as resilient as she was young. Perhaps even brave. She certainly must have loved Jon, for Sansa knew that women had little choice in the matter when it came to their children. Cersei proved that to her on many occasions. Her father likely vowed to protect Jon and he did so until the day that he died by keeping his secret.

She could only do the same.  _ I will protect him, _ Sansa promised the long-dead woman.  _ “Just as my father once did.” _ Reaching down, she took his hand in her own. Jon stared at her for a long moment before weaving his fingers through hers. Opening her mouth, Sansa knew that there was only one thing to say, feeling Robb and the rest of her family deep in her heart as she spoke.

“Let them try.”

**Author's Note:**

> I would love to hear your thoughts!


End file.
